


Sinful Pleasures and Blossoming Hearts

by HyenaKonrad



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Desperation, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Smut, Watersports, bladder desperation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:10:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyenaKonrad/pseuds/HyenaKonrad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After weeks of stewing after the incident between John and Sherlock, Sherlock comes forth to John with a proposal of an interesting sort</p>
<p>A smutty adventure in fulfilling John's fantasies, and how he starts to wonder just how much more there may be to his feelings for Sherlock</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sinful Pleasures and Blossoming Hearts

A few weeks had gone by since the incident between the two of them had occurred, and it seemed nothing was moving forward. There was something there between John and Sherlock that couldn’t be ignored, but the fragile nature of it all had them both too anxious to dare advance. John was starting to wonder if Sherlock just wanted to forget the whole ordeal. In fact he was quite afraid that was the case. By nature Sherlock wasn’t sentimental and wasn’t attuned to his sexual nature, and maybe in the end he really found no interest in exploring this new possibility. The more this thing stewed unattended, the more John felt the emotional toll it was starting to take on him. He’d stopped dating, he wasn’t going out as much (aside from helping Sherlock on a case and the tension was making that awkward at best), and he tried desperately to hash out just what this thing between he and Sherlock was in the first place. Well at this rate, it was probably nothing, and it was going to ruin the friendship that had been between them to begin with. That’s what he thought until the evening he hadn’t expected came. Oh that blissful evening. The evening that changed the tide and their relationship forever.

John was sitting in his armchair, browsing through the daily news headlines (a habit he picked up from Sherlock in looking for interesting cases to pick up) when Sherlock walked into the sitting room, finishing down a bottle of water. Seemed like he wanted something, but he was a big boy. If he wanted something, he’d speak up.

“John, I…I have a request. Rather a proposal of sorts.”

Intrigued John glanced up from his laptop, cocking his head to the side, giving Sherlock his undivided attention. This was it, wasn’t it? Do or die.

“Alright, let’s hear it then.”

Sherlock shifted nervously on his feet, trying to find the way to exactly go about pushing this little proposal. He didn’t think John would object to it, but this was very new to Sherlock and such subject matter wasn’t something he was entirely too comfortable with. But this was something John enjoyed, and something Sherlock hated admitting to enjoying (but he did), and someone needed to make a step forward in this weird little thing between them. John seemed far too afraid that Sherlock didn’t reciprocate interest, so he had to be the one to make the move.

“I drank two liters of water and had three cups of tea. And I thought perhaps…I’m not sure how you would go about doing this…thing that you seem to fantasize about doing but…”

Whoa wait hold on. Was Sherlock really proposing…sex to him? Was that what it was? Because that’s what it sounded like (seeing as that was all John could think of in the past few weeks).

“Are you offering yourself to me?” He probably sounded just as unsure as he looked, because surely he must have heard Sherlock wrong.

Sherlock offered a small nod, face red with embarrassment. This must really be a first for him. First. It hadn’t dawned on John before that all of the tender touches he gave to Sherlock were all firsts for him. But of course they would be, wouldn’t they? Sherlock didn’t exactly scream to have an experienced dating history (unlike John). And suddenly he felt incredibly honored to be the first for a man who’s life was full of pitfalls and disappointing heartache (though it was hard to feel much else but shock from what was being offered to him; he was still reeling). He got to help Sherlock explore the animal he denied in himself, and he got to hear those sounds, and see the ranges of his face, and no one else would have ever held audience to it. Suddenly, Sherlock was a treasure for John to covet as his own. No one else could have him. No one else could unlock all of his mysteries. He was John’s. All his.

“So uh…how are you feeling then?”

“Not really feeling much right now.”

Aside from very full, as John could tell from how Sherlock rubbed his bloated stomach. He really didn’t need to drink so much in such a short period of time. It was best to drink a large amount of fluid over a longer period of time to prevent the stomach from bloating too much, and to prevent oneself from becoming sick from drinking so much. He reached forward and placed a hand on the round of Sherlock’s stomach, and the man frowned in discomfort.

“Next time let’s do that with a bit more tact. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“I had planned to use a diuretic but we had nothing of the sort around.”

“Did you expect us to?”

The look Sherlock gave John told him that yes, that’s exactly what he had expected given the nature of John’s kink. He pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, moving over to the couch and invited Sherlock to sit with him. He did so, but his stature was so formal and a bit tense. Not relaxed in the least. This was not how he wanted to venture into this. He needed to get Sherlock in a better state of mind.

“We have a bit of waiting to do yet. Just relax, alright? You can trust me.”

Sherlock glanced at John, heart questioning. Could he really? Could he trust him? He’s never been given reason that he could trust anyone outside of Mycroft with all the emotional abuse he’s received over the years. But John was different. John was understanding and patient (to a degree), and he’s been absolutely loyal beyond what Sherlock had ever expected when they agreed to be flat mates. Maybe, just maybe…

“Here, turn that way.”

Sherlock quirked up an eyebrow before he turned his back to John, the other man facing his back before easing Sherlock out of his blazer. Once he realized what John was doing he allowed him to slip the cloth off of him to toss over the back of the couch, then a crack of the knuckles and John’s fingers were working at Sherlock’s shoulders. His muscles were hard and stiff, unrelenting at first to John’s gentle prodding.

“Christ you’re tense! You hunch over that work table of yours too much. You’re going to do in your back early on in years if you don’t correct your posture.”

“Oh bugger off…”

Sitting hunched over that blasted table might very well be worth it if John would work his wonderful fingers through the knots in his muscles more often. His hands were skilled in the way they worked, finding the worst of the knots and working them out slowly. Sherlock could feel his shoulders simply melting under the touch and his head fell forward against his chest. 

“Neck…”

“Right, right…”

John’s hands moved up to prod at the muscles in Sherlock’s neck, and there were two benefits to this. John could work out the tense muscles, and he could feel those hands against his bare skin. They were rough from years of hard work in the man’s life. Many callouses and even a few scars. They weren’t perfect and smooth in nature like Sherlock’s (well like they had been before the acid incident. The damage was irreversible and he had odd acid burn scars all along his hands to his wrists). Those hands and their many marks were a testament to the hardships John has faced in his life, to all of the struggles that shaped him to be the man Sherlock knew today. They were a story, but only a part of John’s story. He wanted to read that story in its entirety, if John would give him the chance. Those blessed hands worked from his neck up to his skull, working through his hair along his scalp. And oh the calm that washed over him. Sherlock was always abound with tension and adrenaline, mind whirring and body ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. Seldom was he ever relaxed. Well he needed to do it more often.

Relaxed. As he relaxed he started to notice an aching low in his belly. An aching discomfort. The fullness was shifting downward from his belly to his bladder, all of the fluids he had consumed starting to filter through his body and needing to be released. But he was far from desperate. He shifted positions on the couch however, to get a bit comfortable. He didn’t see the smile curling up on John’s lips.

“Feeling a bit uncomfortable?”

“A bit…don’t stop…”

Sherlock leaned back against hands that had gotten distracted and stopped their gentle prodding and urged them to continue. And they did, cradling his precious skull with such care. But the relaxation only remained for a few minutes longer before the discomfort started building in magnitude at an alarming rate. The fact that he’d had so much to drink was taking effect. He had over hydrated, and his body was doing what it needed to compensate for the unnecessary fluid. Sherlock let out a testy sigh and crossed his legs, foot fidgeting. Why couldn’t he just enjoy this gentle touch for a little longer? Curse his bladder. It could wait.

“Come on, up you get. We’re going to the bedroom.”

Sherlock looked back to John as he rose to his feet, helping Sherlock up as they made their way for John’s room (since he planned on making quite the mess, he would spare Sherlock’s bed of needing to be cleaned). Both men were feeling an anxiety blossom in their breast, while all at the same time a knot of desire and intrigued want filled them up, over-riding rationality and the part of them that said this was probably a bad idea. They shouldn’t be doing this. Flat mates didn’t lust after each other, and they certainly didn’t fuck each other. But a shared glance between them spoke one thing; they both wanted this, no matter how sinful and depraved it was.

“On the bed.”

Sherlock did as he was told, sitting at the edge of the bed so that he could cross his legs. But John shook his head.

“Middle of the bed Sherlock.”

He huffed a sigh and scooted back, bladder aching and throbbing at the jerky movements as he bounced back on the bed. He was starting to feel an intense desire for the loo, but he could still hold it. He was just at the point where he’d rather not. He caught his lip between his teeth and worried at it for a moment before he watched John climb onto the bed to sit in front of him, the bouncing making his bladder throb and him wince. Sherlock had his legs tucked under him, thighs pressed together in attempts to stave off his need.

“See this is what you get for drinking so much so quickly. You’re fine—until it hits you. Starting to really feel it, aren’t you, you big idiot?”

Sherlock laughed dryly, not the least bit amused by John’s obvious statements. As if he wasn’t experiencing that first hand.

“Excellent deduction John. You’re an absolute genius.”

“Oh hush up you.”

John placed a hand on Sherlock’s thigh, rubbing up and down slowly, watching as his body reacted in trembles when his hand reached higher and higher up his thigh. Oh he knew where Sherlock wanted to be touched. Not yet. Not quite yet. He was going to savor this. Savor Sherlock’s every reaction as John explored his body. He was going to enjoy this. John started to undo his shirt, and he could see that Sherlock was a little self-conscious about it at first, hands almost moving to stop John’s (being naked, even partly so, made him feel incredibly vulnerable). But he let his hands rest in fists on his tensed thighs as John worked his shirt off his torso. Sherlock was slender and thin, with a little bit of a belly from the recent healthier intake of food and his body not quite knowing how to cope with it (though John definitely was certain Sherlock’s body was thankful for being more properly taken care of). His skin was pale, almost translucent, veins blue in contrast to the paleness. It was an eerie beauty that had John mesmerized. He was almost more than human. Sherlock shrank back at the staring eyes, obviously taking it in the wrong way, and he made to move until John gripped him tightly on the forearm to keep him from running off.

“No. Stay.”

Sherlock gave him a scrutinizing look, anxious, chest heaving with short breaths. He didn’t like being dissected with John’s eyes. It was too much like those cruel people would stare and laugh. But he did as he was told yet again and kept his position on the bed, tensing his thighs rhythmically, hands gripping them tightly to resist holding himself as his need grew new heights. John’s eyes weren’t cruel, and neither were his words. Sherlock could trust him. Calm down. It would all be fine. John’s hands now roamed over Sherlock’s body, grazing lightly at his skin, and the goose bumps left in his wake, the shaky sighs, they were all so very delicious. Sherlock’s eyes closed as he focused on the fingers trailing over his body. And he wanted more. He wanted his hands to wander his body inside and out, and take control of him. He wanted John to take over his entire being. He wanted John and himself to melt into something more than themselves as separate beings. He wanted to be a single entity, combined with John. Something more than himself.

John was taking immense pleasure in being able to explore that smooth skin. There were a few scars here and there, but now was no time to ask where he’d gotten them. He explored the scars, his back, his shoulders, played with the ridges of his spine and ribs, then his thumbs pressed against his perky nipples, and Sherlock shuddered in response. It was hard to tell whether he was just sensitive to touch in general, or if the sensations were all heightened by his growing need.

“Has anyone ever…touched you this way?”

Sherlock shook his head, unable to find words against the inexplicable sensations of pleasure he was being assaulted by. His cock was half hard, straining to full erection due to his bladder’s needs for relief pressing at the base of his penis, urine trying to force itself out. He groaned, rubbing his thighs together as he wriggled on the spot, trying to take shallower breaths so that he couldn’t feel the fullness of his bladder within him on every inhale. But there was no escaping it. His fullness was invading every part of him, making every sensation, every touch nearly unbearable to endure.

“F-Fuck…”

“Bit much huh?”

Sherlock shook his head frantically. He was afraid is he told John he was nearly undone, that he would stop, and that was the last thing he wanted.

“D-Don’t stop…please…d-don’t…”

John laughed to himself. He was absolutely pleased with his work, Sherlock succumbing to absolute lust and desire, all rational thought fleeing from him. This was a side to Sherlock he’s never seen before, and honestly didn’t believe existed. But boy was he absolutely pleased to be the only one to see it. One hand twisted at one of Sherlock’s nipples, rolling it over the pads of his fingers as his other hand travelled south, finding the mass of his bladder in his abdomen, swelling with its contents.

“God you’re bursting, aren’t you?”

“I…I can…w…wait…”

Sherlock didn’t sound so sure of himself, but it was apparent to John that he didn’t want this to end. Not quite yet. Oh John wasn’t done either. He was just glad to hear Sherlock consent to continuing forth. John now slid his hand down the front of Sherlock’s trousers, which forced it to press against his bladder. Sherlock gasped, moving a hand to his crotch, which John prevented with a swat of his hand.

“No. No hands.”

“But John—“

“That’s an order.”

Sherlock tensed, keeping his fists balled against the tops of his thighs as he trembled with the effort it took to keep from leaking. John rubbed his fingers over Sherlock’s cock through his trousers, certain he must be absolutely damp within. He wondered if he’d already started leaking yet. John licked his lips.

“You’re desperate for a piss, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes, John…” Sherlock ground out through clenched teeth, bladder heavy in his belly. Oh please he needed to go.

“You’re doing very good. I want you to hold it a bit longer for me, alright?”

Sherlock wasn’t sure he had it in him, but for John he would bear down and try his very hardest. John was now helping Sherlock maneuver out of his trousers and pants, leaving him completely naked before him. John teased at his sensitive inner thighs, damp with sweat, trembling with the effort to hold in the ocean of piss he was still trying so hard to contain. Oh god he drank so much.

“John…”

His voice was edging on alarm.

“I know. Hush…”

John took his hands to the inside of Sherlock’s knees and forced his legs apart, much to Sherlock’s protest and whining. A gush of urine burst forth from his twitching cock, soaking the duvet on top of his bed, and it took all manner of self-control to keep from gripping himself or completing losing all control.

“John, I…I can’t hold it!”

“Yes you can. Just a little longer…”

Oh god John’s jeans were tight with his erection pressing against them, and they were getting rather uncomfortable and bothersome. He just wanted to ravage Sherlock. Take his body and claim him. John was quite the lover in bed, and he wanted this man to see just why he was known at least in Sherlock’s head as a ‘lady’s man’. Oh he would make him see just how capable he was. But he had to be slow, careful, and take care of him. This was Sherlock’s first time, and he needed to make this experience was good if there were to be a next time (not that he was planning on a next time or anything). Just enjoy the now. Enjoy it, and ensure Sherlock enjoyed it.

John now reached beneath Sherlock, cupping his balls in his hand, fondling them gently. Sherlock took in a shuddering breath as he arched his back, legs stretching out in front of him as he wriggled on the spot, trying to get away and yet leaning into the hand playing against his most sensitive of places. He simply couldn’t hash out just what he wanted. All of the signals were mixed up and losing connection with his brain.

“O-Oh god…”

The whimpers escaping his lips were absolutely pitiful, and Sherlock bit at his tongue to keep from making them, trying to hold onto the smallest shred of pride he had left. But it was gone. Fled out the door when he let John take control of him. He wanted nothing more than to feel more, and go. He wanted to go so badly. Oh god he had to piss! Another spurt leaked out, making Sherlock moan deeply in his throat.

“Joooohn…”

“Very soon, I promise.”

He had to take him. He had to take him now if he was going to do this how he wanted. Sherlock couldn’t hold on much longer. John now moved around behind him, hand moving from his testicles to move up his cock, pumping it with slow, steady strokes, the organ twitching and stiffening under his touch. He loved how Sherlock cried out to the intense sensation, body overly sensitized due to the urgent signals of desperation hammering him with unrelenting force. He reached over to the end table and pulled out a tube of lubricant from the drawer, undoing the zip of his trousers to pull out his erect penis, throbbing with desire and need. It took all of his self-control to keep from pumping himself to ecstasy (he couldn’t stand his sexual needs when they overwhelmed him). No. he had a much better plan in mind that would bring both he and Sherlock over the edge. He’d been waiting this long to do this, and he would wait just a little longer.

“You’re going to have to lean forward for me. Face against the bed. Come on, almost there. You can do it.”

“John, I c-can’t—“

“Sssshhhh, yes you can. You can do it Sherlock. You’ve been so very good for me. You’ll be rewarded, I promise. Now lean…forward…”

He helped ease Sherlock forward so that his face was lying against the bed, ass presented to John, his anus puckering, inviting John to take it. Oh and take it he would. He poured the lube onto his fingers, then he rubbed the tips of them over that sensitive ring of flesh. Sherlock tore his teeth into the duvet, fingers gripping and tugging, body writing desperately at his warring desires. His urine was dribbling out of him in a steady little flow, unable to contain himself against the sensations of immense pleasure coursing through him, relaxing his body as it melted him from the inside out.

“I CAN’T!”

“Hush…”

John reached around and with the other hand wrapped his thumb and forefinger tightly around the base of Sherlock’s cock, forming a makeshift cock ring, stemming of the flow. Sherlock moaned feebly in protest, then instead occupied his mind with the fingers at his rear, pressing back against John’s hand.

“Just a little longer…”

John pushed a teasing finger into Sherlock, pushing in and out, preparing him for penetration, trying to coax his body to loosen up. His anal muscles tightened around John’s finger, pushing back in resistance against the foreign object, but he persisted, adding another finger when he felt Sherlock was ready for it. Sherlock slammed his fist against the bed, drooling involuntarily as he panted for breath. Oh sweet jesus there was too much sensation, consuming him in a fire that wouldn’t quench. He felt he was on the edge of something, something large and brilliant, and he just wanted to tip over that edge. Oh just let him find the resolution. Please…

“JOHN!”

Sherlock was there. He was at the precipice, and now was the time to finally bring him to the climax. John prepared his own cock, covering it in lube, pumping up and down the length a few times for good measure to make sure not a spot was missed, then he pressed his head against the puckered flesh, stroking Sherlock’s back gently. He was shaking like a leaf.

“On three…I’m going to enter you…and I’m going to let you go…ok?”

“Oh god please…John…”

“Hush…I know…ready? One…two…threeee…”

John eased into Sherlock, and at the same time he released Sherlock’s cock. He pressed into the man’s prostate, hitting into that most sensitive place inside his core, and it was all too much. He couldn’t. He simply couldn’t a moment longer. He let out a harsh cry into the mattress, back arching as his urine gushed forth, spraying up against his own body before soaking the bed beneath them.

“FUCK!”

John bit into Sherlock’s shoulder, sitting still inside of him for a moment to let him adjust to the sensation. Oh but John didn’t want to be still. He could feel Sherlock around his cock and he just wanted to ram into him and claim his body as his. Sherlock was his. The animal in John was almost too much to control, but he tamed it, running his fingers through Sherlock’s hair.

“John…ngh…f-f…fuck…me…NOW!”

He wanted the fire to stop. Oh please let the fire stop. It burned his entirety, and John was the only one who could extinguish it. John didn’t hesitate. He thrust in and out of Sherlock, John’s hand pumping at his gushing penis as it sprayed hours’ worth of pent up urine. As his bladder drained empty, his penis stiffened, throbbing in John’s hand.

“John…J-JOHN I…”

It didn’t take much. So much sensation for so long, his battered body didn’t need much to rock it with a convulsing orgasm. He threw his head back and wailed, cum spurting all over his torso and the duvet beneath him. John followed soon after. A few more quick thrusts and he was consumed with his own ecstasy, biting down into the flesh of Sherlock’s shoulder, drawing blood, cum filling the man up before he pulled out. Then, exhausted and done in, they both collapsed against the wet bed.

John managed to move himself to the head of the bed and pulled Sherlock up with him, wrapping his arms around the half conscious man. They were both sticky with sweat and urine, and the bed smelled something foul. But it was a glorious mess and John wouldn’t have done any of it differently. Sleep threatened to take him, but he had to take care of Sherlock. This being his first time, and John being experienced, it was his job to make sure Sherlock wasn’t hurt, or that he wasn’t emotionally unsound from this new experience. It wasn’t like they had engaged in any intense sexual play, but Sherlock was a complex person. Who knows how he would react to this whole experience.

“Sherlock?”

“Mmmm?”

Sherlock turned and looked to John with tired eyes, a small smile twitching to his lips.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sore…a bit sore, but…”

Sherlock tried to make his mouth work, tried to find the words to describe his experience and feelings towards this precious moment they just shared, but there was nothing. There were no words that could express. Not a single one. His expression was perplexed, blank and yet eyes so full of an emotion john couldn’t really place. The feeling was mutual. John simply couldn’t find words to express what they just shared, and maybe it was best he didn’t try to fish for them. Because did anything really need to be said when there was deep mutual understanding?

Sherlock pressed himself closer to John, nuzzling into his neck as the other man held him tighter. They could wait to wash up. Right now, John just wanted to enjoy this. Enjoy the feeling of this brilliant man against him, listening to the sound of his deep breaths and thump of his satisfied heart. He wanted to feel those curls against his cheek, those long limbs curling around him, as if shielding John from the world (or claiming him for his own and telling all others to simply fuck off) .And it was in this moment that John got the answer to his question. The answer to the desperate pondering he’s done over the past few weeks.

There was something more than lust he felt towards Sherlock, something so deep and so large and so important that he just couldn’t share it. Not yet. There was a time and a place, and now wasn’t that time. How had he come to this? Come to fall for a man, and a man as mad as Sherlock Holmes at that? But the more he thought about it, the more it became so obvious. It could only ever be someone like Sherlock all along, and it would always come back to him.

In the end, he would always coming running after this damn fool. Come hell or high water, convenient or inconvenient, John would always be Sherlock’s blogger, friend, and most important person in his entire life.

**Author's Note:**

> First smut fic, and I'm not sure I'm all that happy with it. Sex isn't my forte, and so my er...possible future smut fics, and this one, aren't all that good, soooo...sorry  
> For one, I understand that for Sherlock's first time, penetration with a penis without properly 'training' his anus to accomodate for the larger object could possibly do immense damage. But for the sake of this fic, lets just ignore that. I mean not saying people have large object penetration their first time with anal sex buuuut...  
> And I feel like I had another point to make, but I can't remember at all what it was right now  
> I hope this is tolerable at the very least...so enjoy!


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